


Noli Me Tangere

by sakesushimaki



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakesushimaki/pseuds/sakesushimaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b><i>noli me tangere</i></b>, meaning "don't touch me", is the Latin version of the words spoken, according to John 20:17, by Jesus to Mary Magdalene when she recognizes him after his resurrection. | No blasphemy intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noli Me Tangere

There are some things that can still render Brian Kinney speechless, immobilized, awed. 

These are things like a business partner turning out to be an actual _good_ person, things like his son calling him from the oh-so-liberal North just to say _I love you, Daddy_ , or like seeing something so goddamn beautiful that his cynic heart thinks there might be hope left for this world, after all.

These are things Brian Kinney does not ever expect.

 

+

 

Brian pays the cab driver and looks up the old factory building. The lights are still on on the studio floor. He doesn’t know if he’s glad for it or if he needs to worry. He was gone for two days, leaving Justin in a powerfully inspired mood and when they talked on the phone last night, Justin still sounded completely distracted and like he’s had too much coffee and too little sleep.

Brian holds open the door for 3B (Janine? Jane? J-something?) and her little ugly bulldog and their daily midnight walk before he heads upstairs. His small carry-on and suit bag seem damn heavy now.

He thinks about taking a relaxing shower before trying to tear Justin away from his work. He decides differently. He figures he can only really relax after checking on Justin, anyway. Brian punches in the code and slides the door to the studio open.

He does not expect to be awed.

A burst of energy chases through him and he all but drops his things just inside the door. The energy fills his head, his chest, his cock. He thinks he might implode.

Left and right, huge square canvasses are propped against the walls, bursting with color, tinged in an elaborate game of light and shadow and the shimmer of drying paint. In the middle of the room, Justin is working on a fresh canvas. He reaches up, extends his arm, executes a long but exact stroke of deep red. The former shirt-turned-rag slips from his shoulder but he catches it before it falls.

Brian watches Justin’s back muscles flex, jeans slide an inch lower, his body and work lit by the forty-watt bulbs straining to preserve the light in the room.

The canvas is big, red, vibrant. Justin is powerful, beautiful, holy.

Inspired Justin has been known to trigger different reactions from Brian, ranking from proud to horny. But this right here is of a higher order. This transcends any single-layered feelings. This is all-consuming.

Brian is not a religious man to any extent. But if there’s any higher power he believes in, he believes in this.

He feels for the wall behind him and slides down to sit on the dirty floor. He can’t make his presence known. He can’t disrupt this energy, this power. He cannot touch. 

All he can do is be grateful for getting to witness this miracle.

 

+

 

Brian doesn’t know how much time has passed when he watches Justin take a few steps back. He stands in front of his work and after a minute or two, his shoulders relax.

“How long have you been here?” Justin doesn’t turn around.

“A bit.” Brian’s throat is dry and he notices for the first time the stiffness in his legs. He watches while Justin goes to the sink, cleans his brushes, transitions. 

He waits for Justin to come to him.

Justin finally turns, walks, and Brian sees the look on his face clear, sees his eyes take focus on reality again.

Justin is still glowing when he stands before Brian and looks down. Brian reaches up, finally dares disrupting his aura, and curls his fingers around Justin’s wrist. He tugs and Justin follows, sits on his thighs.

Brian takes the paint-soiled shirt from Justin’s shoulder and looks at him. There’s a couple of smudges along his shoulder, on the side of his neck. Brian rubs at them and feels his cock grow harder. A few greasy strands of blond lie across Justin’s forehead. Brian follows the wave they form and strokes them behind Justin’s ear.

“How was Chicago?”

Brian just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about mundane things right now. They’re all so inadequate.

He slides his hands up Justin’s forearms, behind his shoulders, pulls him in. Justin’s naked back is warm and soft and hard in the right places and Brian can only marvel at his perfection.

Brian needs a kiss then, a taste. He licks the corner of Justin’s mouth, nips his way to the center. Justin’s lips open slightly and it’s really all the permission he needs. 

They kiss, mouths sharing energy, tastes.

Justin starts working on Brian’s shirt, snapping buttons open. When his talented, hard-soft-wonderful fingers slide inside, Brian thinks he might come right there. He grunts into Justin’s mouth and fights it. Justin’s fingers slowly slide inside, parting his shirt, tickling down his sides, and Brian thinks he might dissolve.

He groans, feeling almost helpless under this man’s spell. He frowns, realizing he doesn’t care. He bites his lip when Justin moves away. His teeth loosen on the flesh again when Justin starts mouthing Brian’s jaw and follows the sharp line to his ear.

“You’re prepared, right?”

Brian doesn’t answer but starts fumbling for his pocket. Once he’s wrestled the condom free, Justin takes it from him. They work together to get their pants open, push them down just as far as needed. There’s a rush now, the need is transforming.

Brian pushes two wet fingers inside Justin, deeper, further, circling, while Justin ruts softly against him. With the friction, the charge everywhere, Brian can barely keep it together. 

Justin knows, Brian’s sure of it. He doesn’t mind.

Justin kisses him as he slides down slowly on his cock. Brian grunts, sinking to the hilt. He furrows his brows and shares his strained breaths. Justin moves his mouth to Brian’s neck again, down to the spot beneath his ear. He rolls his hips once, twice, and lets Brian come inside him.

Brian does not ever expect to feel awed, like he can’t hold back, or like he’s part of something special. But then he never expected Justin.


End file.
